


Where The Wild Thyme Blows

by kimirce



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (there's a tiny bit where Arthur thinks Merlin's being coerced to kiss someone but actually he's not, A Midsummer Night's Dream - Freeform, Arthur is king and Lancelot is not dead, Dancing, Faeries - Freeform, Gen, Magic Courage and Strength, Magic Reveal, Midsummer, Midsummer night, Music, Prose that attempts to be poetic, Reveal, Seelie Court, The Summer Court, because that's how I want things to be, but that's why there's a teen rating), emrys reveal, fae, faerie circle, questing trio, title inspired by Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25374004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimirce/pseuds/kimirce
Summary: Merlin slips away from Camelot during the festivities on Midsummer night. Arthur and Gwaine follow after him, assuming that Merlin has somehow got himself into trouble. Only, after they find him, Arthur and Gwaine begin to realize that it is notMerlinwho is in any danger.After all, the realm of the Fae is no place for mortal men.
Relationships: Gwaine & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), minor Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin) - Relationship
Comments: 21
Kudos: 108





	Where The Wild Thyme Blows

**Author's Note:**

> This draft was about to be deleted, so I've gone ahead and posted it. This is one of the bits that has been sitting in my docs for a year, and is only now seeing the light of day for the first time. So, I hope you enjoy it!

Arthur took another sip of wine, surveying his hall. His skin was warm, tingling pleasantly from the spirits. The Midsummer celebration was in full swing, and nearly everyone had indulged enough to let loose a bit. Nobles and servants alike were dancing to the music the minstrels played, and the rich food was being devoured enthusiastically.

Gwaine was seated next to him, flushed and bright-eyed, but still quite coherent despite the amount of alcohol he had imbibed. His voice was loud as he regaled several ladies with tales of his daring knightly deeds. Arthur rolled his eyes as he listened, but let him be. It was a party, after all. Besides, he thought with an inward smirk, Gwaine would regret his choices during training at dawn the next day.

He leaned back in his chair, content to just listen and watch his people celebrate. In a corner, he spotted Merlin and Guinevere laughing together. Lancelot joined them, and Guinevere dragged them both out on to the floor, where they started dancing in an odd three-person circle.

Not long after that, Merlin excused himself, leaving Guinevere and Lancelot to sway together without him. Merlin smiled fondly at them, then slipped quietly out of the hall.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Gwaine asked beside him. Arthur glanced over. Apparently he was not the only one who had been watching Merlin leave.

“He’s probably going to the festivities in the Lower Town,” Arthur said.

Gwaine hummed. “Sounds fun,” he said. “I’ll have to get him to tell me about it in the morning.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and ignored him.

*

When the festivities began to get a bit rowdier, Arthur stood and gave a brief last speech to the drunken court, told them to enjoy themselves, and retreated with dignity.

Gwaine accompanied him as he left, jibing gently at the King’s slightly unsteady gait. They made their way up the stairs to the noblemen’s quarters, which were just off the royal wing. Arthur stumbled, and Gwaine braced him as he missed the last step. “I think you drank a bit more than you could handle tonight, Princess,” he teased.

Arthur shook him off. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Normally Merlin’s here for this part instead of gallivanting off to the Lower Town. I hope he has a good excuse in the morning.”

“The only thing he did wrong is that he didn’t bring me with him,” Gwaine sniffed. “I bet they throw a much better party down there than here in the castle with all the stuffy noblemen…” He trailed off, halted at a window.

Arthur continued past him, then stopped as he realized Gwaine was no longer with him. “What are you looking at?” He asked Gwaine.

“I don’t think Merlin went to the Lower Town,” Gwaine answered, suddenly serious.

“What?” Arthur came up next to him and peered out the window. From this vantage point, they could see the point where the rear wall of the Citadel met the forest. And there, slipping through the shadows, was Merlin. A moment later, Merlin disappeared into the forest, leaving Arthur and Gwaine to share grim looks.

“We’re following him, aren’t we?” Gwaine asked as Arthur turned to continue down the corridor.

“Oh, yes,” Arthur answered, feeling a great deal more sober. “Whatever he’s gotten into this time, he’s not hiding it from me.”

Gwaine shrugged. “Works for me. I’m sure he could use some back-up.”

Arthur glared. “We are not going to back him up, we are going to drag him back, because he is my servant and should not be doing things without telling me.”

“Whatever works for you, Princess,” Gwaine said absently. “But let’s get moving, yeah?”

*

They made it down to the woods and picked up Merlin’s trail quickly enough. Soon, they spotted Merlin in the distance, darting through the trees ahead of them.

Merlin moved through the woods quietly and with unexpected grace. Arthur bit back grumbling words of complaint. He knew Merlin had been purposely ruining his hunts!

Gwaine was a step behind him, silent and steady as they followed Merlin. What the hell was that idiot getting up to?

Arthur lost sight of Merlin behind a tree for a moment, and then – he didn’t come out the other side. Arthur shared a baffled and concerned look with Gwaine. Where had Merlin gone? It was like he’d just disappeared.

Something flashed in the corner of his eye. Arthur turned to look at it, but there was nothing there. Then again, he heard – laughter?

As they stepped cautiously forward, Arthur noticed that Gwaine’s gaze was darting about as well. A silhouette raised its arms and spun around, only to become the swaying of a branch in the night wind. Something was very odd here.

They reached the tree that Merlin had disappeared behind. The forest opened into a small clearing, lit brightly by the full moon. A dewy breeze swept Arthur’s skin, making him shiver. Chiming notes of music rang in his ears. He shook his head, trying to clear the strange daze.

At his side, Gwaine looked similarly disconcerted. He started to step past Arthur into the clearing. Arthur glanced down, and was struck by a sudden foreboding. He grabbed Gwaine by the shoulder and hauled him back.

“Oi!” Gwaine protested softly, shaking him off. “What was that for?”

Arthur stared at the ground, putting the pieces together. A very old warning niggled his memory.

“Look,” he said, pointing at the circle of stones and flowers and toadstools that Gwaine had been about to step unknowingly into.

“It’s a faerie circle,” he continued, unwaveringly certain and wishing he were wrong. “My father warned me of them when I was young.”

“A faerie circle…” Gwaine repeated, and then the blood drained from his face. Arthur felt similarly white.

A faerie circle, which the fae, terrifying creatures of magic, used to trap mortal men before forcing them to dance to their deaths. They were only dangerous on certain nights of the year… like Midsummer. Arthur cursed.

Merlin, the half-witted fool, had blundered into a fae trap. Arthur cursed again, hearing Gwaine also swearing heartily beside him.

“What do we do?” Gwaine asked, uncharacteristically grim.

Arthur thought hard. “I think,” he began slowly, remembering the stories his nursemaid had whispered to him out of his father’s hearing, “that the fae cannot force us to stay with them if we do not partake of their food or drink. And their music is similarly enrapturing. We need to go in, find Merlin, and drag him out before the enchantments snare us too.”

“Is that all?” Gwaine asked sarcastically. Arthur was well-aware that Gwaine was nearly as devoted to Merlin’s safety as himself and so gave the comment as little attention as it was due. He reached down to tear strips from his tunic, balling them up. Gwaine raised an eyebrow.

“We can put them in our ears, to block out the music.”

Gwaine nodded in understanding, and made short work of his own tunic.

Arthur imagined the look on Merlin’s face when he saw what Arthur had done to his shirt. He was going to scold and complain even as he mended it. Arthur could almost hear him muttering about inconsiderate prats who made more work for their long-suffering servants. He refused to consider the other possibility. They would bring Merlin home.

A hand on his shoulder caused his muscles to tense. Gwaine was watching him, understanding in his unexpectedly sharp eyes. For a drunk, Gwaine was astoundingly observant. “We’ll get him back,” Gwaine said. 

Arthur straightened. “I did not give him leave to depart from my service. Of course we’ll get him back.”

Gwaine gave Arthur a look, seeing through all Arthur’s posturing, but said nothing.

“Forward, then,” Gwaine said, adjusting the cloth in his ears. “Forward,” Arthur agreed. And together, they stepped over the boundary of flowers and stones. 

The world shifted. It was extremely disorienting. Voices like bells rung through the trees. Impossibly beautiful people whirled around them, dancing together, laughing, kissing each other against the bark of the oaks.

It was as though they had been there all along, but had merely gone unseen. Now they shone brightly from the shadows, magic in their skin and in the air.

The music was dulled by the makeshift earplugs, but still it lured Arthur in, rich and belling with strange harmonies. Gwaine grabbed his forearm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. 

Arthur glanced over and saw that his jaw and muscles were wound tight, and realized that he was much the same. The impulse to join the revelry, to lose himself in the tangle of bodies and light, was almost incapacitating. Arthur bit his lip hard, tasting blood. Merlin. They were here for Merlin.

Arthur gripped Gwaine back, and saw some of the fog fall from his eyes. His pupils were blown and his footing unsteady. He cursed under his breath, meeting Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur saw the unspoken message. Find Merlin. Before we get lost too. 

They walked slowly around the edges of the clearing, keeping each other grounded with the pain of bruising grips. Arthur surveyed the dancers, looking for the head of black hair that would indicate his manservant. 

The clearing was somehow much bigger than it had been when they first encountered it, and the revelers were many. The celebration extended beyond the clearing and into the trees, wreathed in light and mist. 

The dancers were all unfathomably graceful, leaping with the grace of stags and bending like willows even as they spun much too fast. Arthur stopped looking for black hair and started looking for the clumsy man who would be disturbing their perfect dance. 

It was Gwaine who finally spotted Merlin, tugging Arthur around sharply as he gestured forward. Merlin was in a knot of dancing fae near the tree line, held still by one fae as she kissed him.

They could only see him from profile, but it was clearly Merlin, and Arthur’s eyes widened at the sight. The fae woman had red, red hair, and her slim white fingers were tangled in Merlin’s short curls, tugging him closer. Merlin’s eyes were closed, and his hands were on her hips, pressing their bodies together. 

Next to him, Gwaine looked stupefied. It was an arresting sight, to be sure, but Arthur’s heart hardened with the knowledge that Merlin was enchanted, that this creature was taking advantage of him.

He gritted his teeth and dragged Gwaine forward, shoving through the crowd to get to Merlin. The fae barely seemed to notice as they pressed past them.

It seemed to take an age to reach the cluster where Merlin swayed entangled, laughing into the red-haired fae’s mouth. Another woman draped herself over his shoulder, wild dark curls obscuring her face.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, hoping to make himself heard over the music that he could almost feel more than he could hear. “Merlin!” He shouted again, but Merlin did not seem to hear. Arthur reached through the knot of people, straining to lay a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Gwaine was still holding on to him tightly. A sweet scent filled his nose, overpowering in its intensity. 

“Merlin!” Arthur said again, fingers catching on Merlin’s shirt. This time, Merlin jerked up, pulling away from the red-haired woman’s lips. Her hands fell from his head to his shoulders, and she glared at Arthur as Merlin turned his head.

Arthur almost thought he saw a shine of gold fading from Merlin’s eyes as he turned a shocked gaze on Arthur, but then Merlin’s eyes were as blue as they ever were. A trick of the light floating around them. Merlin stumbled as he stepped back from the women, suddenly clumsy again instead of sure and tall. He said something to them, flashing a bright, apologetic smile, then shoved his way free and grabbed Arthur and Gwaine, towing them into the trees, then turned on them.

“What are you - you can’t be here! Why are you here?” Merlin demanded, voice strained. 

Arthur found his voice again. “Why are we here?! We’re here to rescue you, you idiot, after you blundered off into the forest alone at night and got yourself trapped in a faerie circle! Did you even realize what was happening here? What the hell were you thinking, going off alone like that? Do you know how lucky you are that Gwaine and I followed you? They’re not pretty girls, they’re magic, and they were going to dance you to death!” He grasped Merlin’s upper arm tightly, letting fury hide his relief. “We’re going home.”

“You were following me?!” Merlin asked incredulously. He looked - almost frightened, for a second, and then offended. “Why were you following me?!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, and then relaxed his hand on Merlin’s arm, realizing he had tightened it enough for his strength to hurt Merlin. “Because you snuck off into the woods in the middle of the night, you _idiot_ ,” Arthur enunciated. 

Gwaine offered a strained grimace of a smile. “Bad call, mate. We can take you home now, though.” 

Merlin stared at them helplessly. Arthur pulled on him again. “We can talk about this later,” he said though gritted teeth. “We have to get out, now.”

In the clearing, the music swelled, bright and alluring, and Arthur’s head spun. He was vaguely aware of Gwaine swaying against him, and Merlin cursing lowly as he supported them. Merlin shook them both, hard, until their eyes became clearer again. 

“You have to leave,” he said. “It’s dangerous here.”

Arthur fought to think, to speak. “We,” he managed. “We have to leave.” He tugged on both Merlin and Gwaine, turning them vaguely in the direction that they had come from. Unwillingly, he found himself facing the clearing once more. The fae still danced, and the chords of the song rung dizzyingly in Arthur’s mind.

“Leave,” Gwaine agreed, though his eyes strayed to the celebrations once more.

Merlin closed his eyes in seeming despair. “Alright,” he said. He grabbed each of them by an arm and pulled hard. The two knights stumbled after Merlin as he led them, skirting the edge of the clearing. There was something strange about that, but Arthur’s head wasn’t clear enough to work out why.

They drew to a sudden halt, and Arthur struggled to keep his balance, falling into Merlin. The sweet scent he had detected earlier flooded his senses once more, wafting off Merlin’s shirt, thick in the air around them. _Honeysuckle,_ he identified distantly. _And fresh apples._

Someone was speaking. Arthur looked up. It was a woman – a fae. Her hair was strange shade of silvery-white, and her eyes glittered. By her side was the red-haired fae from earlier, the one who’d kissed Merlin. Arthur tried to understand the words the silvery woman was saying, but her voice was difficult to focus on. It was like trying to listen to scraping steel and a chorus of bells – like feeling summer thunder in his chest.

Merlin responded to her, but Arthur couldn’t make out his words either. The woman spoke once more, and the sound of it hurt Arthur’s ears.

Arthur gritted his teeth. He was the King of Camelot. He had conquered armies, killed a _dragon._ He was stronger than this.

With an effort of will, Arthur straightened his spine and lifted his head, and met the silvery woman’s eyes. Her words trailed off, and her gaze sharpened on him, like a predator. Merlin stiffened. The woman glided forward. Two fingers settled under Arthur’s chin, keeping his gaze locked with hers. Her touch burned like ice and fire. Her eyes were shifting and unsettling, the color of new metal.

Arthur refused to back down, and met her stare for stare.

Her mouth curved. She spoke again, and this time Arthur made out the words, even as her voice jarred his bones.

“This one has courage,” she said. “And hair like spun gold. A fine mortal to dance with us this night. Come, Emrys - ” she released Arthur, and held a hand out to Merlin. “Regale me with tales of your deeds in the mortal realm. And then, I think, a dance will do us well.”

Merlin’s grip tightened on Arthur’s arm, then relaxed. He released Arthur and Gwaine, and held out his arm. The woman took it, and began to lead Merlin away.

Nothing in Arthur’s mind made sense. He was too overwhelmed by the sound, the scent, the colors. He tried to follow after Merlin, but his knees trembled on the first step. Another hand caught his arm with a burning touch. Arthur looked, and found the red-haired fae smiling sharply at him. Her eyes were green, too green – like poison, like leaves at the height of summer.

“The Queen desires your presence,” she said, with a voice like a hunting horn. It wasn’t as painful as the other woman’s – the Queen’s, but the sound still made Arthur's jaw ache. Another fae took hold of Gwaine. The one holding Arthur pulled, and her grip was like steel. Try as he might, Arthur could do nothing but follow.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like the plot’s a bit rushed, but I rather like some of the prose.
> 
> ‘Where the wild thyme blows’ is a line from Shakespeare’s _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_. It’s from one of Oberon’s monologues, in which he’s instructing Puck on where to find Titania so he can trick her into drinking a love potion.
> 
> I would love to hear what you think in the comments, and if you like, come check out my [tumblr](https://kimirce.tumblr.com/) and say hi to me there! Mostly it's pretty pictures and art that I like, along with some ramblings about fic or science or history.


End file.
